Empty bones, bones.

Mindless; September 24th.

We didn’t really have any similarities at all, only that we liked each other. I throw bits and pieces of tangled memories behind and you can’t find the time to untangle them. It’s been a wild summer. One of laughter, many smiles and weak knees. Breathe in, breathe out. I’m taking my days one step at a time. Things will change soon, the seasons too. I lost myself and found myself all at once.

Unknown desire.

I want a man who feels pure magic when he lays a hand on my shoulder. I don’t want comfort. I don’t desire comfort. I see no comfort in comfort. I want an edgy, but desirable smile. I want a smile that speaks on its own. I want a flawed and challenging man who leaves me no room to figure him out. And goddamn, I don’t want butterflies. I want firecrackers. I want sparks to fly when we exchange glances. I’m so sick of this simplicity.

I want him to talk, and I want to listen. I want to keep to myself, but be with him all at once. I want us to lay on a pink flowered mattress on a brown, whiskey stained floor with blue sheets, and cream pillowcases. I want us to adore each others skin, and figure out every flaw and fall in love with it. But I want silence all the same. I want you to trace my bones. I want you to show me everything.

I’m avoiding the void you’ve created.

August 12th;

I don’t want to go to college. I want to stay here and fall in love with you.

My hands shake, my body aches. My anxiety eats me alive.

Hands.

The way they touch and they feel. The way they shake in silent fits of regret and wipe tears at every loss. The adaptation they seem to have, the sudden reaction to an unwanted touch. The way they embrace another hand when nothings left to hold.

August 1st;

The trees shook from a soft breeze, the wind scattered around leaves like memories. People looking but never seeing. The sky was heavy with rain, like a face of hesitation just dying to scream out. Words pour out of me so quickly I have to bite my tongue to contain them. You haunt me like a ghost and I stray away from most. I’m plagued with an everlasting burden, one much too heavy for such frail bones.

I try not to intertwine my reality with the depths of society.

June 30th;

I hadn’t written in a while because all my thoughts seemed incomplete. I spent my nights piecing together fragments of sentences that stained the palms of my hands. I iced my morning coffee for fear the steamy liquid would burn all the words I long to say right off the tip of my tongue. When I was young I would sneer childishly at those around me, filled with a childish hope that I would one day see the future I’d always dreamt of. At the age of six, I would study my mothers books, staring into the word stained pages making up a story to suit the title. Confessions.

July 6th;

You’re an avalanche of memories.